Stardate 11471.5

Captain's Log: Stardate 11471.5
So how does EBYRA top a race that consisted of two tacks and one jibe? How about a race with no tacks and one jibe? That's right, even once the race committee was notified that the first mark was a fetch for the entire fleet, they sent us off to T anyway. If they sent us to P, we all would have had to do at least two tacks followed by a rushed jibe due to the restricted area off of Kings Point. But no. That would involve tactics, maneuvers, sail handling and, perhaps more than an hour on the race course.

And it appears, at least from the courses and racing times we've seen most of the season, that EBYRA clearly isn't about that. Ugh.

But what the hell. It was the last race of the season and we were going to make the best of it.

And I started to make the best of it with a last place start in the last division. And since all divisions were sailing the same course, the entire fleet was ahead of us -- 22 other boats all on starboard and all on the layline. Let the parade begin!

But then something incredible happened. We went off the layline by turning slightly right, heading up in order to avoid Saudades's wind shadow. That slight course correction put us in a puff and clear air.

Here is a video of how it happened.

So then we passed Saudades. And then Wavelength. And then Wolf. And then Wuestwind. Holy shit! Are we in first?

Then it was like some late night TV Commercial -- But wait! There's more!

We were starting to pass the division that started 5 minutes ahead of us. First Wild Child (who tried to head us up. C'mon Brad. Really? Really?), then Live Wire, then Rita . . .

After our one jibe around the mark, we passed the rest of the division and, I must admit, we were feeling pretty good about ourselves.

But wait -- there's some of the next division -- the one that started 10 minutes ahead! We passed JalapeƱo, Glory Days, and Seaduced.

We passed 15 boats already! Wait! What's that? We're close to the finish, but there's Sea Castle who's started 15, yes 15, minutes ahead of us. More speed! More speed!

And from down below, I could swear I heard a Scottish accent yelling "I'm given it all she's got, captain!"

So we ended up crossing behind Sea Castle by a few seconds. Hard to be disappointed though after all that we did accomplish.

Later last night, the results came out and confirmed what I already knew. First Place finish for the Enterprise!


Once back at the mooring, we celebrated in true Enterprise fashion by my wife passing out cocktails of none other than Romulan Ale, which was apparently a hit:



Yes, it's blue. Did you really think it wouldn't be blue? And yes, we know it's illegal, but we have a border ship that brings us in a case every now and again.

All in all, a fantastic night and a great way to end a racing season.


Stardate 11469.6

Captain's Log: Stardate 11469.6
Last night's conditions were perfect for a Wednesday night race: Clear skies, great breeze and comfortable temperatures. And how does EBYRA celebrate what could be the greatest race night of the season? With a 25-minute course.

25 minutes. Really?

And before you say "It was getting dark" I remind you that it's called the Wednesday Night Race Series. Night = Dark. Get used to it. You want to race in brightness, sign up for a fucking Day Race.

Seriously - we spent more time in the car driving from Yonkers to City Island than on the race course.

So we made the best of it -- or at least the best we could. There were a total of two tacks and one jibe. I swear, if you blinked, you may have missed the entire race.

But as two tacks and one jibe go, we did it perfectly. We gained some ground after the start, rounded the A mark at Warp 7 ahead of the fleet, screamed down to Big Tom on a broad reach, and then back to the finish line, which wasn't really upwind any more.

I think Dave took a nap on the foredeck. Nothing else to do.

We finished in first place, correcting into third. And yes, the engine got more hours than the sails did.

Sorry to say it -- this was a piss-poor job by the race committee. If only one of the EBYRA Board was out there with us racing, they could have made a change, but maybe they are the smart ones abandoning this series for other harbors and other hobbies.

Perhaps that is why last week Paul Strauch on Andiamo kept asking me to get involved and make the race committee abandon the race, even though I'm no longer part of the EBYRA governance. He kept yelling over to us "C'mon Edd. Enough already. Make them cancel. Don't you have photon torpedoes?"

This is the same Andiamo that's a brand new boat, with its new shiny black sails made of some UK material called unobtainium, with its Port Washington club membership between some of the richest real estate on the east coat, and whose owner could probably buy EBYRA and the four owner clubs with what's in his wallet.

Well Paul, all I can say is....



Yes, we do have photon torpedoes.

On to next week - the final race of this year's Wednesday Night Race Series. Hopefully we'll be on the boat more than a half hour this time.

Stardate 11467.7

Captain's Log: Stardate 11467.7
FUCK!!!! When I got to my Honda Pilot this morning, there were dead fallen leaves on it and it just pisses me off.

No, I'm not some tree-hugging hippie nature-loving freak. It's just all now dawning on me that there are only two races left this season, the days are getting shorter and shorter, and we are now back again entering the "Brrrrrrr" months -- Septembrrrr, Octobrrrr, Novembrrrr and Decembrrrrr. Kids back in school, the Enterprise set to be hauled next month, and before you know it, we'll be seeing Santa's fat ass all over the place.

I need to calm down and not get ahead of myself. After all, last night was more summer-y than we've had for some time -- mid 80's, clear skies, and, oh yeah, not a breath of wind anywhere on Eastchester Bay.

The entire racing fleet puttered around the (late again) committee boat, hoping for a sign of a puff that could build into a 10-15 breeze, giving us a fast-paced night to remember. But instead, the only ones doing the work last night were the engines.

And even though crew conversation flowed from email protocols to opera to genetically-engineered tomatoes (Seriously -- you can't make this shit up,) we were getting a bit bored. So, as any other immature middle-aged man would do, I started to futz around with my Garmin GPSMap 2006, reset the track memory, and went on to make some radical maneuvers -- slow turns, fast turns, reverse, etc.

There was some concern by the crew as to what I was actually doing, but I had a plan -- a mission -- and I was going to carry it out to the very end.

Yes, I was using the Enterprise's engine, helm, and GPS tracking to write my name on Eastchester Bay:


It's actually harder than you would think -- and as proud as I was in accomplishing this task, I was equally as thankful that my parents did not choose to name me Cornelius or Sebastian.

Meanwhile, Captain Paul Strauch of Andiamo kept begging me to call the race committee to tell them to cancel the night so we can all go home, to which I reminded him that I am EBYR-etired and no longer have any responsibility towards the management of racing on the Bay. And that still stands when those that do manage EBYRA are nowhere to be found.

And then I reminded Paul that if he wants me back, he'd have to put out a hit order on Baby-Daddy Nanni.

There was a while there where we were considering arming the photon torpedo buckets and water cannon phasers to do some surprise attacks on other competitors, but between Andiamo, Eagle, Saudades and the Committee Boat, it was too much of a target-rich environment. As I was about to pick up my radio mic and ask if anyone has heard three horn blasts, the committee blasted their three horns and cancelled the evening's activities.

Here is a photo of the wind at its peak last night:


It's a good thing we considered the reef -- a full reef.